


And they went into the ark to Noah, two by two

by Edonohana



Category: The Leftovers
Genre: Cigarettes, Identical Kevins, M/M, Self-cest, Two-Percent World AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/pseuds/Edonohana
Summary: Kevin in the 2% world.





	And they went into the ark to Noah, two by two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts).

> There is no animal harm in this story.

No matter how early Kevin set his alarm, he was always awakened by dogs. Dogs barking. Dogs whining. Dogs scratching at his front door. 

He stared at the ceiling and tried to remember if that had been true since the very first night after the Vanishing. But that was a question that was impossible to answer, since he hadn’t slept at all that night, or the night after. He’d been too busy organizing the people remaining in Mapleton to turn off gas lines, get anyone with medical training to the hospital, and search homes and cars for babies, toddlers, and sick people. 

It must have been weeks before he’d slept at all except in short cat-naps. And longer before he’d realized that opening or breaking down every door in town had resulted in freeing all the dogs. And cats, too. Even caged animals like hamsters and rats and parakeets had gotten loose. He hadn’t told his helpers _not_ to free them, so they had. Now Mapleton was full of them.

Kevin rolled out of bed, padded to the window, and looked down at the dogs on his porch. They tipped up their muzzles toward him, panting, tongues lolling, tails wagging. Not a one of them was thin or injured or even disheveled, which was more than he could say of many of the remaining humans. The dogs weren’t whining for their lost owners, they were just trying to get Kevin to feed them. You’d think they’d have figured out by now that this was one of the few inhabited homes where they couldn’t cadge a meal.

People were so damn concerned about the dogs (and cats, and hamsters, and rabbits), it was getting to be a problem. They made trips to abandoned towns just for pet food, risking their lives on the roads choked with wrecked vehicles. Gas lines could blow up. Fires could engulf them. They could be electrocuted by downed power lines. Little cuts could go septic. 

It was a world full of dangers now, and for all that Kevin devoted every waking moment to keeping the people of Mapleton safe, there weren’t enough hours in the day. Even if there were two of him, he’d still be barely enough. 

He put on his uniform and went out, ignoring the dogs that trailed after him hopefully. In the pale pre-dawn light, he saw a world taken over by animals. Six deer grazed placidly on an overgrown lawn. A raccoon clambered out of a broken kitchen window, followed by four plump kits. Parakeets screeched in the trees. 

No human voices broke through the meaningless noise. Fifty-nine people remained in Mapleton, of the original eighty-four. (Eight, including the mayor, had been killed in car crashes on the day of the Vanishing, two had died of unknown illnesses later on, and fifteen had gone to Ithaca when they heard of the larger community there.) But none lived within earshot of Kevin. The ones who had left their own houses to cluster together had chosen a different neighborhood, one where none of them had ever lived in or known anyone, and the rest stayed in their scattered homes.

It might seem like a challenge to even address them all together, let alone put them to work, but it was one that Kevin had solved immediately. Objects at rest tend to stay at rest; objects in motion tend to stay in motion. That had been the subject of Jill’s science fair project. It might seem difficult to get everyone in town to meet him at the police station every morning at dawn to get their assignments for the day, but in the early days they’d been grateful for the work, and by the time anyone might think to complain, they were used to it. And if they didn’t like it, they could always go to Ithaca.

As Kevin stepped off the curb, something warm and solid and furry tripped him. He got a glimpse of that damn calico cat that was always trying to rub up against his ankles a second before his head slammed into the road.

Everything went white.

He opened his eyes on someone else’s bed in someone else’s house. Someone must have found him and taken him in, though it was odd that he didn’t recognize it. He felt like he’d been inside every room in every house in Mapleton, stripping them for food and medication and useful supplies. 

Kevin put a hand to his head, and was surprised to feel neither bandage nor blood. Not even a swelling. And no pain, either. Odd. He’d obviously been knocked unconscious.

He sat up cautiously, waiting for pain and nausea, but there was nothing. He felt fine. But someone had definitely put him to bed, because he was naked.

“Hello?” he called into the silence. 

No one answered. Nor did he hear any barks or meows or squeaks. The quiet reminded him of that sudden silence in the hotel room, that split second of hush before the cacophony of car crashes and screams. The moment when everyone had lost everyone. (Well, almost everyone, Lucky Doug had kept _both_ his kids, when nobody else in Mapleton had had even a single family member remain.) 

But there was no time to think about that. Kevin wasn’t hurt, so he needed to get back to work. Probably whoever had picked him off the street had been too busy to stay with him. 

Kevin approved. He could count the number of truly dedicated workers in Mapleton on the fingers of both hands. Some were too young or old or sick or injured to contribute, but many of the rest were forever wasting time in useless pursuits like feeding stray pets or doing weird rituals to call back the Vanished or trekking to Ithaca and coming back with a bee in their bonnet to get Mapleton to pick up and move there en masse. So Ithaca had the electricity back on. They’d promised to send someone to help Kevin get it back on in Mapleton. Everyone needed to hold their horses and focus on what needed to be done right here. 

He went to the closet, hoping a man had lived in the house. Though if not, he could always wrap a sheet around himself and try the next house over. But when he opened the closet, he found that it was empty except for three outfits. One was a Mapleton police officer’s uniform, making him wonder uneasily which of his co-workers it had belonged to. One was a set of casual civilian clothes, a white T-shirt and blue jeans like you’d wear around home with the family. And one was some kind of survivalist outfit, with camouflage and goggles and leather.

Kevin was reaching for the uniform when he heard the sound of bicycle wheels, followed by a light thud. It sounded almost like someone doing a paper route. He went to the window, the wooden floor cool on his bare feet, to see what it really was.

A boy was riding a bicycle, throwing newspapers as he went. Thud. Wheels spinning. Thud. 

But there were no more papers. And Kevin didn’t recognize the boy, which was impossible. There were only three surviving teenage boys in Mapleton. 

“Hey!” Kevin shouted. He heard his voice crack. “HEY!”

The boy swerved, then put his foot down. He looked straight up at Kevin, and then Kevin knew him. He’d been a classmate of Jill’s, and had vanished with her. Brian? Benjamin? Something like that.

“Hi,” Brandon said, a little doubtfully. 

“Stay right there!” Kevin shouted. 

He threw on the jeans and T-shirt, crammed his feet into a pair of tennis shoes, and bolted for the front door. His heart pounded; he was certain Braden would be gone when he threw the door open, and he’d be greeted by nothing but a panting dog.

But Boone was still there, staring curiously. 

And all the cars were parked neatly along the street or in driveways.

And there was no broken glass on the street.

And a few porch lights were glowing. 

And a woman he didn’t recognize at all was opening her front door, rubbing her eyes, still in her nightgown. “Everything all right?”

This was Mapleton as it had been the day before the Vanishing, when Kevin had still had a wife and father, a son and daughter. When his biggest worries had been hiding his smoking from Laurie and anticipating the arrival of a puppy bound to yap all day and pee on the rug. 

“What day is it?” Kevin demanded. 

“Tuesday,” Bond volunteered. 

Impatient, Kevin yanked the newspaper from Beau’s hand. His eyes darted to the date, but he had to read it several times to take it in. He hadn’t gone back in time, as he’d started to guess. The date was about what it probably had been when he’d tripped over the cat in his Mapleton, four months after the Vanishing. 

But he was in a Mapleton where that seemed to never have happened. The headlines were all about a life that seemed as distant and impossible as “A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away:” planes crashing and celebrities cheating on their wives and politicians breaking promises. 

The woman and boy were staring at him. Kevin returned the paper. “Thanks. Uh, I wanted to know how the Knicks did.”

“They lost,” said Baldur. He threw the paper at the house next to the woman’s and continued on his way. A man came out, picked it up, and went back in. 

All around Kevin, the neighborhood was waking up. Lights came on in houses, TVs turned on, and car engines started up. It was a world of plenty, a world of families, a world not running on bewilderment and grief. 

Kevin didn’t recognize the neighborhood, but he knew the names of the streets. He began to walk toward his house. Laurie and Tommy and Jill’s house. He didn’t know how he’d explain his sudden return—they must think he’d run off or been murdered—but surely they’d missed him so much that explanations wouldn’t matter. 

A police car pulled up beside him, and a half-familiar voice, a voice he knew from recordings of his own court appearances, said, “You’re a stranger in town.”

Kevin looked over and saw himself. His old self, anyway; Kevin hadn’t shaved since the Vanishing. He hadn’t had time, and who was left to care, anyway? Officer Kevin’s cheeks and chin were smooth, but his face was hard with anger and tension. A faint, stale odor of smoke hung about him. Kevin abruptly craved a cigarette. 

“I’m not a stranger,” Kevin said. “I live here.”

Officer Kevin shook his head. “No, you don’t. You’re visiting. A vagrant.”

“I have a wife here,” Kevin protested. “A daughter. A son. My father is Chief of Police!”

“I’m Chief of Police, like my daddy before me.” Officer Kevin considered him with that suspicious once-over that Jill used to call his cop glare. “I guess we have a lot in common. Hop in.”

Kevin walked around and got into the passenger seat, not the back. Officer Kevin didn’t complain. It felt wrong to sit in a police car while someone else drove, but it was also oddly relaxing. If they crashed, it would be someone else’s fault.

“It’s hard being in charge,” Officer Kevin said. He sounded like he was making idle conversation, but Kevin knew it as an interrogation gambit. Relax the suspect. Invite him to talk about himself. “I’m busy, busy, busy. You, now. You get to take breaks. Relax. Go on vacation.”

“No,” Kevin said. “I’m—I don’t know what you’d call me. I wasn’t promoted or elected.”

“Something needed doing,” Officer Kevin suggested. “You were the only one to step up.”

Kevin nodded. “Anyway, I don’t get breaks.”

“I hate ‘em myself. What do you do with a break? Walk a dog? _Think?_”

Kevin shrugged. The car felt hot and stuffy. The scent of cigarettes was stronger inside, cigarettes and sweat. Maybe Officer Kevin had gone for an early run. 

“Keep yourself busy,” Officer Kevin advised. He put a companionable hand on Kevin’s shoulder. His fingers brushed the back of Kevin’s neck. “Dance as fast as you can. Want a cigarette?”

“Thanks.”

Officer Kevin pulled out a pack from his back pocket. Kevin took a cigarette. It was slightly damp, a little crushed, warm to the touch. He put it in his mouth and tasted salt. Officer Kevin took out a lighter and flicked it. A flame blossomed, and he leaned over and applied it to the cigarette in Kevin’s mouth. Kevin took a deep, satisfying drag.

“No one ever lit a cigarette for me before. I always lit my own—though maybe that hasn’t changed…?” Kevin’s voice trailed off. He still hadn’t figured out if Officer Kevin had noticed that they were the same person.

Officer Kevin didn’t take the bait. “Tastes better that way, doesn’t it?”

Kevin nodded, a little uncertainly. Officer Kevin’s hand was now cupped over the back of his neck. Playing bad cop, or good cop? 

“Did anyone around here disappear four months ago?” Kevin asked. 

“Just animals,” Officer Kevin said offhandedly. “Dogs, cats, deer, the works. Vanished right off the face of the Earth. People were running around and crying in the streets. You a dog person?”

“No.”

“Cat person?”

“No.”

Officer Kevin gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Me neither. I’ll be honest, what I mostly miss is beef. We’re all vegans now, like it or not. At least we’ve still got booze and cigarettes. Got to have some vices left!”

“And sex,” Kevin said. 

“And sex,” Officer Kevin agreed. “Me, I’m married. I used to think that’d be great—live with your best friend and fuck her too, always have someone to talk to and share the burdens with, never sleep alone. Kids—I thought I’d love having kids. But it turns out having a family means always having to say you’re sorry. Having to justify everything, from little things like smoking to your entire existence. Worrying that they’ll die at the same time you’re hoping they’d just disappear. And if they did disappear, then you feel like your heart’s been ripped in half _and_ you think it’s your fault _and_ you beg God to trade them for you _and_ you wish you’d never had them in the first place, because then you’d still be alone but you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

Desperate to change the subject, Kevin said, “I thought you said only animals disappeared.”

Officer Kevin nodded. “I was talking about my dog. Old Blue. I was a K-9 cop. No such thing anymore. Makes me feel a bit lost. So, where you headed, Kevin?”

Kevin hesitated. He wasn’t so sure now that he wanted to go to his house. Besides, wouldn’t it be Officer Kevin’s house? “I don’t know.”

Officer Kevin pulled over the car. They were in front of a hotel, a cheap one. The kind of place you’d go to have a cheap affair. 

“This is the place for you,” Officer Kevin said. “A single man, just passing through. No attachments. No job. Just freedom. A pack of cigarettes, a bottle of whiskey, a warm body for the night. The next morning, you vanish with the mist.”

Kevin’s belly lurched, but he wasn’t sure if it was with guilt or fear or excitement or desire. Or all of them, all at once. The expression on Officer Kevin’s clean-shaven face was an unmistakable invitation. 

“You got a bottle?” Kevin asked.

“There’ll be one in the minibar.”

Kevin didn’t bother with the line about the warm body. He just leaned in and kissed Officer Kevin. It was a bad idea, the worst idea. Picking up hitchhikers and doing meth and cheating on your wife and wishing your family gone were nothing to this. Officer Kevin’s mouth was hot. Kevin could feel the hardness of his teeth and jaw when he leaned in. Was this what Laurie had felt when she kissed him, all fire and bone?

Neither of them paid for the room. Officer Kevin gave the clerk a meaningful glance, and they were waved in for free. The sheets were light and white. Golden sunlight shone through them, making them so translucent that Kevin could see Officer Kevin’s tattoos beneath the cloth. They were all the same as his. 

Once he’d have taken more time, tried to find out if he was a good lover. Now he just wanted to lose himself. They fell on each other, rough and hard. Fire and bone, bodies battering each other but never into submission. Kevin didn’t dare close his eyes, not even when he wished himself or Officer Kevin gone. There was nothing like sex to make you feel utterly distant, utterly alone. Maybe if he came hard enough, he’d disappear.

Everything went white. 

Dogs were barking. Of course. 

Kevin opened his eyes, and blinked up at lolling tongues and wet noses and wagging tails. And people, too. It seemed like the entire population of Mapleton was gathered round him as he lay sprawled on a sidewalk with his head in Joyce Wong’s lap while Colby Parker held a gauze pad to his temple. 

It probably _was_ the entire population, Kevin realized. They’d have gathered at the police station, realized something was wrong when he didn’t show up, then gone to his house to find out what. And that was just fine with him. He had something to tell them.

“We have to leave Mapleton,” Kevin said, cutting through the babble of exclamations and questions and sympathy. “They’ve got electricity in Ithaca. A hospital, with doctors. A school. Over three thousand people, and growing every day.”

About half the people looked excited—they were the ones who’d been urging everyone to pick up and move there already—and half looked doubtful.

“But we have to stay in our house in case Mommy comes back,” Erin said.

Her father put his arm around her. “Honey, if Mommy comes back, she won’t let a little thing like us having moved stop her. Anyway, we’ll leave her a note saying where we’re going.”

“What about the dogs?” Ashley protested. Kevin never could tell whether he was fond of her as his closest link to Jill and Tommy—she’d actually been with them at the science fair, in a circle of kids holding hands to make a circuit, when they’d vanished—or resentful that she’d been that close to them, and they’d vanished while she’d remained. “And the cats?”

“We’ll take vans,” Kevin said. “Crates. Cat carriers. Maybe we can’t get them all, but the ones that are impossible to catch are the wild ones—the ones that would rather stay.”

That answer seemed to satisfy her, and the other pet-lovers as well.

“When do we go?” Fletcher asked, jiggling Sam in his arms. Sam squirmed and let out a piercing wail, like the one that had alerted Fletcher, in the middle of his frantic search for his own son, that another child was alone in the backseat of a car.

Kevin’s impulse was to say, “Now.” Or at least, “Tomorrow.” But his head ached and he felt dizzy. He wasn’t in any condition to oversee anything, let alone drive. “When everyone’s ready. Not today. I’m taking a sick day.”

He stood up and cautiously stepped inside, ignoring the chatter that broke out behind him. This time he looked where he was walking, and stepped over the calico cat. Having failed to trip him, she darted inside. He held the door open and tried vainly to shoo her out, but that only allowed a big husky to come in. 

Figuring he may as well cut his losses, Kevin shut the door, staggered to his bedroom, and collapsed on the bed without getting undressed or taking off his shoes. The bed shook as the husky jumped up on it. Kevin reached out to shove it off, but it curled up at his feet where he couldn’t reach it. For a disoriented moment, he thought the dog was purring, but then he realized it was the cat.

Maybe right now Doug was helping Erin and Jeremy write a letter to their mother. She… what was her name? Dora? She wasn’t coming back. None of them were ever coming back. He’d never have to decide whether to leave Laurie, or tell her he’d been unfaithful and risk her leaving him. He’d never know what Jill really thought about him, never see her bright metallic smile again. 

Kevin turned over the pillow and lay down his aching head on the side that wasn’t yet sodden with tears. 

In this diminished world, he didn’t have to face the consequences of what he’d done in the better one. And once he was just another cop in Ithaca instead of the only person holding Mapleton together, he could no longer bury his guilt under a shitload of work. 

The pillow was wet again, with tears and blood and—Kevin turned his head and squinted—cat drool. Just how crazy was he to sleep with something that had nearly killed him? He ought to shove it off the bed. But he was too woozy and exhausted, physically and mentally. All he could do was lie there and think.

In some other world he could only imagine, maybe Dad and Laurie and Tommy and Jill were together, mourning him. Maybe Laurie felt guilty over getting on his case about cigarettes on the day of the Vanishing. Maybe Doug’s wife would take in Fletcher’s son. 

The cat kneaded the pillow and purred, and the husky snuffled and licked his hand. 

Kevin had assumed that everyone was so obsessed with the animals as a substitute, however inadequate, for the loved ones they’d lost. But maybe it was that those who remained had chosen to take over the work and devotion of the Vanished who had loved those pets. The people were gone, but the bonds remained, passing from hand to hand in an unbroken circuit. 

If any dogs whined outside, they were drowned out by the sounds of the animals inside. Kevin slept.


End file.
